Sweat

          D

             R

                I

                  P

                    P

                      I

                        N’

Legs feel like overcooked 

spaghetti.

Rumbling overpowers 

my brain.

My arm shakes.

The score?

19-18

D

O

W

N

By 1.

Game started

In our favour. 

We had led the game

And then didn’t.

This was our chance.

We could come

back.

The lead could be in our grasps in two plays.

Time freezes.

The serve comes up in the air.

My eyes          on the birdie.

               lock  

It can’t breakthrough 

the wall of gravity 

and comes down.

Wind up.

Swing.

The net swishes and I look

d

o

w

n 

Luke looks at me.

Stay calm, 

don’t rush.

20 -18.

My heart thumps.

The world shakes.

My heart beats           f a s t e r  

than a cheetah.

A big black barren hole 

pierces 

through my heart.

We might lose this game 

and not win any games 

this tournament.

They serve.

The ground shakes.

I return 

            they return.

This goes

                 On 

                       And

                               On

Until gasps.

And clapping.

That baren hole in my heart gets stitched up and covered.

We could win this.

I pray a million times a second.

Wishes invade all my thoughts.

Hopes fill up my brain.

Let us win this game.

                up

I serve           and

                      Over.

It flies in slow motion over their heads.

They return it flies over the net quickly.

It flies behind me.

  “Mine”           I hear

Coming from

                                                    Behind.

I close my eyes.

It opens and I see the net 

                                        fluttering.

My face crumples up.

My mouth tastes like I ate a whole lemon.

We shake their hands

and as I ride the bus home

a thought resonates with me.

That should’ve 

been

My 

Shot.